Everything Was Green
by AlecGateway
Summary: For the Dannymay19 event - collection of not necessarily related drabbles for each daily prompt. "His skin was prickling, undecided between feeling too warm or too cold, buzzing with an energy that was invisible but Danny felt like it would be green. Green, green, green, like anything seemed to be through these eyes. (He'd rather feel blue right now.)"
1. Day 1 - Crossing

Crossing

* * *

"Have you ever thought to help the ghosts to cross over?"

"What- what do you mean?"

The woman sitting in their kitchen had managed to baffle Maddie Fenton and Danny was about as speechless.

"Have you tried to speak to them, to help them go into the light?" Melinda Gordon asked calmly, already adjusting to the strange situation, even for her, who was used to ghosts in a different way.

"You can't hold a conversation with those spooks!" Jack exclaimed indignantly, his bellowing voice reverberating in the air like a ghostly wail of his own.

"Miss Gordon-"

"Please," she said, smiling gently. "Melinda is fine."

Maddie cleared her throat, trying to smile back. "Melinda, you said you have experience with ghosts, but I don't think you have encountered any of the level that haunt Amity Park."

Melinda looked like she wanted to laugh, confusion hiding behind a slight frown. "Level?"

"Power level, yes," Maddie explained. "It indicates how strong a ghost's manifestation is, what abilities it possesses, how unique they are, et cetera."

"Take Phantom! That menace is a level of itself, probably taking its energy from all the negative emotions!"

Maddie coughed, laying a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Jack, dear, I don't think Phantom is the relevant subject right now."

"No, I'd like to hear more about this Phantom," interjected Melinda, leaning forward with interest. Maddie seemed to hesitate, unsure how much good it would do the situation.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you a bit," she relented. "Here, I must have a picture, he's in the newspaper quite often." Maddie reached for the counter, sorting through a small stack of newspapers before handing one to Melinda, the front page facing up. "Phantom was the first ghost we saw, he also poses as a hero often, which is what blinds people the most."

Melinda studied the blurry snapshot with much interest, skimming through the story underneath. "'Phantom saves truck driver out of burning car', sounds like a hero to me," Melinda concluded, looking up to find Maddie's expression a pitying one.

"I'm afraid we'll have to disappoint you. You see, ghosts are mere ectoplasmic manifestations of post-human consciousness - they can't feel emotions, experience pain or develop and follow any sort of morals. The negative energy from their death results in a generally malevolent character."

Melinda raised an eyebrow, looking back at the page in her hands to see nothing wrong with the scene, besides the fact that this ghost was not what she knew and the child that had once lived a probably normal life was now saving grown men from crash sites.

"I'd like to meet him," she told the couple, smiling again. "Trust me, I'm good at talking to ghosts, if there's anything I'm good at."

Danny, standing in the doorway, silently listening, was frozen.

"I want to try helping Phantom into the light, crossing over might be his only chance."


	2. Day 2 - Farewell

Farewell

* * *

Abruptly, the string could be cut, the fates holding the golden scissors moving onto the next in no time.

The feeling was numbing, at the same time overloading his senses, neurons being fried then repaired, changed and molded. (Everything was always green, wasn't it?) Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this was farewell.

He was leaving something behind in a place between existing and not-existing, was losing a part of his essence, feeling it disintegrating. For a short moment, his soul was halfway exposed, fragile and unprotected. His shield was being replaced, his defenses stretched to cover two opposites, thin, easily ripped apart.

An eternal goodbye and no time to think about it. Deep down, Danny realized what he had involuntarily given up, what he was accepting. Subconsciously, his soul was moving on, not into death, but into the cracks between the two planes of existence. His thoughts were as split as the fibres of the string. (Crackling with green electricity.)

Nothing made sense, but part of him knew.

This was farewell. (This was welcome.)


	3. Day 3 - Barrier

Barrier

* * *

His hand pressed against an invisible wall. Once he let go, he gasped, pulling back and cradling his hand to his chest.

"What the-" A burn mark was visible on his palm, an angry pain lingering on his skin.

"Danny!" called Tucker, who was just catching up. "Why did you stop- Oh." It took him a moment to notice the faintly glowing barrier in front of them, seeming to cut right through the forest as though it had been designed specifically to hinder them.

"I can't get past it," Danny informed it, fighting to the pain out of his voice, but Tucker knew him too well.

"What's wrong?" he asked, stepping closer and examining the halfa. His eyes fell on Danny's hands, both still held in front his chest suspiciously. "Show me your hands," Tucker ordered, his tone making it clear he wasn't going to accept any arguing.

"It's fine, really," Danny assured, hesitantly holding out his injured hand, flinching when Tucker tried to touch it.

"Sorry, did I hurt you?"

"No, no, you're good."

Tucker glanced to the barrier and back, frowning. "You touched it?" At his nod, his friend gently let go of his hand, approaching the wall keeping them from proceeding.

"Tuck, what are you doing?" asked Danny, a warning lacing his words. "Be careful."

"Yeah, sure," his friend assured offhandedly, reaching for the barrier. "I just wanna test something- hey!"

Before he could lay his own hand on the glowing surface, Danny had stopped him, using his good hand to hold his back, glaring at him. "I have a feeling it's not harmful to ghosts, but to humans. Don't do anything stupid."

"You're right," Tucker snorted, letting his arm fall to his side. "That's your job."

"Exactly."


	4. Day 4 - Ectoplasm

Ectoplasm

* * *

Ectoplasm wasn't like blood, it also wasn't its polar opposite the ghostly variant of it.

It was so much more.

"Danny, what are you doing?"

It was only now that he realized he had been zoning out, his focus shifting to the matter of the dead. "Huh?"

Jazz's expression was guarded, ready to deal with anything. "You're... you're moving the- you know."

Danny's eyebrows furrowed as he followed her gaze and saw what she meant. "Oh?" was his intelligent reply, but then again he had just been shot by Skulker, which was also the reason their bathroom floor was full of ectoplasm. For some reason, Danny thought it was odd that it all of it was green. (Everywhere.)

"You moved it without touching it," Jazz added, not making any sense to him. It must have shown, because she clarified, seeming to be caught between disgust and amazement. "It- Well, it means that it still responds to you after-" She cleared her throat, averting her eyes.

"After what?" he pressed, irritated by her half-finished sentences. His mind was foggy from the injury, his body echausted from working in overdrive trying to mend itself. Jazz sighed, picking up supplies and cleaning up. He felt guilty that it wasn't him doing this, doing the work that he'd piled together in the first place.

"Nevermind, we can always discuss this when you're rested and healed and you're not-"

"Jazz," he groaned. "Just tell me what you're talking about, you're driving me crazy."

Despite the situation, Jazz laughed quietly. "You're already crazy, little brother. Come on, let's get you off the floor."


	5. Day 5 - Sunset

Sunset

* * *

Sunsets didn't exist in the ghost zone. There was no sun, no moon, unless you counted Astro's island that closely resembled the moon, but greener. Danny hadn't been there often, only about three times, once with Clockwork, once by accident, following the star-like trail the ghost had left behind. He thought there'd been a third time, was almost sure of it, but he couldn't remember.

Astro couldn't remember what a sunset looked like. Danny couldn't describe it well enough.

If he was honest, he had always preferred a sunset above a sunrise. Instead of the world tearing itself apart over trivial worries, he liked it melting together in the calm slumber of the night. He imagined dreams being painted on fresh canvas, instead of needles popping too full balloons. The most comforting were probably the stars, presenting themselves to him faithfully, drawing the same images he was used to, unwavering, bright.

The sunlight took away their visibility like it took Danny's. It was the dark that made him glow, even though, in reality, everything else just dimmed. (Not the stars.) He'd rather it dimmed than flickered, posing, pretending to light the way only to leave traps on the way.

One day, he hoped, that ball of fire would rise, dawn would warm his face just so much that he wouldn't feel uncomfortable and he would keep shining. (And his fears would dim in the rays of sunlight.)


	6. Day 6 - Blob Ghost

Blob Ghost

* * *

He was a blob ghost. Definitely. Surely. (Yes, no.)

His arms and legs and head felt numb (really, they didn't feel at all), he could only hear his core screaming, see green inside and out, everywhere. Essentially, he was nothing more than a tiny, significantly insignificant blob ghost. If so, why did he feel so heavy?

"Danny? Can you hear me?"

Had there been a voice? A name? His name?

"What did you do to him?!"

Vibrations made him wobble in the air, setting him off course. No, that was just his train of thought slipping off the tracks. He wasn't floating at all.

"I didn't do anything, this one's on you."

Not doing anything sounded nice. He didn't know where the idea had come from, but he stuck to it, just like his shell was sticking firmly to his center. A shell. Shell? (Shield, splintered and broken.)

He was safe, nothing could penetrate his defenses, he was protected. So, Danny did nothing. Breathing, moving, thinking, all of those were unimportant. The life of a blob ghost, existing, glowing, existing, glowing. (He was glowing green, why, why, why?)

Suddenly, a hand was reaching for his deepest self, his shield coming undone. He was unwinding, opening, spreading and growing. Had there been a force? No, this had been all him. (He had wanted this.)

"That's right, let me help you."

And he clung to the literal helping hand, glowing less, existing less, hoping to live more.


	7. Day 7 - Broken

Broken

* * *

The windows were broken.

No one could take even the slightest glimpse behind them and the view outside was blurred, shapes warped and distorted in the evening light of that street lantern. (You'd think the colouring would be different.)

Usually, a broken window was no hindrance to him. He could always just go intangible, easily moving through the glass if it wouldn't open. These windows however, were ones he carried with him, the ones he opened wide some days and closed with dark curtains on others.

There was no phasing through the delicate glass, no breaking in or breaking them open.

And yet, something was wrong, because Danny couldn't see. (Where had the green gone?) They said eyes were the windows to one's soul, but if the soul couldn't look through them, how could it be seen from outside? He wasn't himself and he couldn't find the place he was hiding.

The windows were broken, the doors barricaded and the chimney clogged with the ashes of past mistakes burned.

Danny couldn't escape himself, couldn't get out. (No one could see.)


	8. Day 8 - World Building

World Building

* * *

Angela Foley could and would not suppress her smile at the sight that was before her.

Her son and his best friend, who she had inwardly adopted the day he had first hugged her (crying and telling her he thought he understood what a mom was now), were sitting on the kitchen floor, leaning against the counter and observing the inside of the oven.

"I'm so jealous of that cake," said Danny and Angela wasn't even thinking about not listening in for a minute.

"With your life," Tucker replied, leaning further onto his friend. "You could be jealous of anything."

Danny hummed, gladly accepting the added weight. "Except for friends. I'm never jealous of other people's friends."

"You better not be," Tucker agreed.

Angela wasn't blind, nor was she deaf. Those children had seen more than she had, despite the difference in age and she simply could not bring herself to want to change it. Whatever these two had been going through, whichever dangers they had been facing, she knew they'd had each other. As a mother, she would never ever stop worrying herself half to death, but she loved her son and she loved Danny.

Moments like this were worth all of it.

"I wish everything was like baking," Danny revealed, breaking the short moment of calm silence.

"Tasty?" Tucker asked, nearly getting a laugh out of Angela.

"Easy," Danny corrected. "Imagine you could just put everything together and it would just-" He made a motion with his hand like an explosion, but softer, gentler. "Build itself."

"What a world building idea, oh Great One," Tucker mused, before both of them broke into giggles.

"Definitely, Pharaoh Tucker."

She wished she had had a friend like that, but in the end, she was happy the way her life had turned out.


	9. Day 9 - Pet

Pet

* * *

Maddie was torn.

Despite the big secret her son had kept for so long being out in the open to her, Danny kept on surprising her with everything. Last week he had beaten a ghost by bringing up a mutual friend of theirs, a few days after he had quickly repaired the broken glass on the living room table with ice before Maddie's sister had arrived and today this had happened.

Danny had brought home a pet.

A ghost dog.

"Everyone already thinks he's mine, anyway! He already thinks so himself!" Danny argued, holding the puppy out for her to inspect, or perhaps to compare to his own puppy-dog-eyes. It was starting to work, Maddie had to admit. "I'll take good care of him, I swear."

"Danny, I'm not sure about this."

"But mom-"

"This is a ghost, Danny, think-"

Danny pulled the dog back, hugging him close, suddenly seeming weary, a negative energy swirling in his eyes, flashing green for a split-second. "So am I," he countered. "I don't see you kicking me out of the house for that reason."

'Do you want me to?' Maddie wanted to ask, but stopped herself, realizing that reality had been her son's biggest fear for too long to threaten him with it, even just as an off hand comment.

She sighed, knowing there were little ways around this. "What im someone sees him?"

"I'll train him to go invisible, mom, come on, please! Look at him, Cujo's the greatest dog you'll ever meet!"

Oh, she was going to regret this.


	10. Day 10 - Water

Water

* * *

Danny knew he wasn't floating in the air, he was being pulled down, pressure everywhere, increasing. He couldn't breathe. (Why was that important again?)

By the time he opened his eyes, it was dark, colourful dots dancing in his eyes. (So many green dots.) Danny wasn't sure if he could drown, or how fast, but he wasn't about to test it. (Test? Was this a test?) Blinking, he tried to feel more than his burning lungs, soon finding he was unable to move his limbs my more than a millimeter. Someone had tied him up - and as he had to realize - with phase proof ropes. He looked down, only seeing the beginning of the rope, emitting a soft light into the endless darkness around him. No weight was to be seen. His mind was starting to turn foggy, requiring him to think each thought once, twice, thrice- What had he wanted to do again? (Breathe!)

Right, escape, get up, get out, then breathe.

It look him a concerningly large amount of time to figure out that the way to do that was by using his cryokinetic powers to freeze the ropes before smashing them by brute force. (Your favourite, hm?)

The ties broke away, falling down into the black hole he was already lost in. Which way was up again?

"Danny, wake up, you need to breathe."

Nightmares, his absolute favourite, yes.


	11. Day 11 - Shapeshift

Shapeshift

* * *

Danny had been a lot of things - human, ghost, a baby, a kid, a teenager, a hero, a villain, a friend and an enemy. He had never been another person before.

"Try again, Daniel, practice makes perfect."

"If that were true I think I'd be pretty great by now," Danny grumbled back, gritting his teeth in frustration as much as exhaustion. "It's not working. Maybe I just can't do it."

"If that were the case, I would know it," Clockwork chuckled - he did that more often lately.

"I thought you'd said you couldn't see my direct future anymore, especially not when I'm in the tower?"

Clockwork nodded gravely. "That is correct, sadly. However, I do get the general information on certain aspects of a possible future of yours. Shapeshifting has been a reoccurring theme in most of the time line versions I have observed."

Danny sighed. "So other Dannys have mastered it?"

This time, Clockwork actually laughed. "Mastered isn't the word I would have used, for most of them, but they have managed to use the ability, yes."

"Wow," said Danny, preparing to try again. "Thank you so much, oh Master of Time."


	12. Day 12 - History

History

* * *

It was the 20th day of the month and Danny was taking a break, away from now, away from here.

He was flying, staring up at the stars as much as they stared down at him and bathing in the moon's bright light. The night was awfully warm, but the wind brushing against him cooled him down. Danny wished there weren't so many things keeping him chained to the ground all the time. He wished he had a chance to get up there, without any weird, unnatural powers, to set foot on something that was farther away. The ghost zone always felt too much like home.

In July 1969 it had happened for the first time, humanity had taken history up to the moon and Danny had never wanted anything as deeply as to follow it, preceed it, write history in his own terms instead of being overwritten by it.

Sometimes he wished for a fresh start, but then he remembered that true history would find a way to write itself and considering his life, part of him would go down that way.

Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could end up a true hero in those books. (Better yet, in those hearts.)


	13. Day 13 - Accident

Accident

* * *

The plate slipped from his hands (through his fingers?), the sound of shattering porcelain reaching his ears far too late and making him gasp, freeze. He looked up, finding his mother in the kitchen doorway, Jazz poking her head in not much later.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "It was an-" He was stumbling over his own words, over his thoughts, tripping and falling. "-an accident."

Maddie's expression was one of confusion as she approached him. "Danny, are you alright?"

He shook his head, flinching away from her outstretched hands, his feet taking a step back without his consent. "I swear," he said, everything running on autopilot. (God, he was tired.) "I didn't mean to." His eyes were wide as he searched his mother's face for any sign of rejection, anger, hate. (Disgust.)

"It's fine," Maddie assured, not coming closer. Her eyes didn't leave him, her hands stayed in that position, outstretched towards him as though steadying him from a distance. "It's just a plate. We have enough of those. Come on, we can clean up this mess."

Danny wasn't listening, he blinked, blinked away tears, breathed without his lungs accepting the oxygen. "Please don't hate me, it was an accident," he begged, arms slung around himself, squeezing tight as to hold himself together.

Something was wrong and he couldn't grasp it.

"What do you- Danny, of course I don't hate you, you're my son, I love you. We talked about this, remember? No broken plate is going to change this."

"Mom," Jazz lightly brushed Maddie's shoulder. "I don't think he's talking about the plate."

Maddie's eyes wandered down to the shards on the floor, briefly, before going right back to her son. "Danny," she said, firmly, gently. "There's nothing to be afraid of anymore, especially not us. We could never, ever hate you."

By now, Danny was entirely lost, everything giving way. Maddie was quick to leap over the remains of the plate and catch him as he collapsed. "Danny!" shrieked Jazz, moving to follow Maddie's example, but ending up standing before them and staring, sick with worry. "What's happening?" she whispered.

Danny weakly gripped the fabric of Maddie's shirt, inwardly confused by it's green colour. (Green, everywhere. He couldn't hear.)

"Jazz, call Tucker and Sam, ask them if Danny's ever had any ghost sicknesses." She felt his forehead, it wasn't cold - Danny was always cold. Jazz nodded, already scrambling for the phone. "If they don't know," Maddie said, a bitter taste filling her mouth at the words. "Then call Vlad."

Danny closed his eyes, blocking out green, only to be blinded by it again. (Hallucinations, memories, were all the same.)


	14. Day 14 - Fire

Fire

* * *

It was dark, it was quiet and it was everything people might describe a calm night as. Nothing moved, except for him. The ground stayed still as he shuffled along the corridor like it stretched along forever and he had to preserve his energy to reach the end. Forever was long and the end unreachable, but if he was anything, it was determined to keep going. His skin was prickling, undecided between feeling too warm or too cold, buzzing with an energy that was invisible but Danny felt like it would be green. Green, green, green, like anything seemed to be through these eyes.  
(He'd rather feel blue right now.)

His lungs were still, waiting for the right time to deflate. Almost automatically, like someone else was in control, his gloved hand reached up to the door and knocked, once, twice, he waited.

A hushed whisper, more concern than surprise, this had happened too often. "Danny?" Hands pulled him into the room, closed the door behind him and set him down on the bed that wasn't his own but might as well be. "What happened? Come on, talk to me."

Red strands of hair, fluttering in and out of the edges of his vision, reminded him that he was safe. They also looked like fire and fire reminded him of what he'd run from. (Definitely too warm.)

"I just ran," he said, not thinking, just letting go of the thoughts circling his mind. "I ran, but I feel like it's still there."

Maybe, if he hadn't felt like everything was flickering around him, trapping him within himself, he would have been able to stop Jazz's face from looking all blurred. (Focus.)

"Ran? From what?"

He could still hear it, feel it, shuffling closer like an inevitable force to suffocate him before taking care of the rest. Against all reason, his core, his human core, his deepest center had screamed at him to help, to run in there and to help, help, help, help! (Please, someone, help him.)

"It was everywhere. I couldn't see."

"Danny, what happened, exactly? Did you get hurt?" Unconsciously, he glowed brighter, a shiver moving up his spine and Jazz's. "You're colder than usual," she remarked quietly.

"I'm a ghost, I don't get hurt by normal things, I get hurt by ghostly things. Why did it hurt?" He was mumbling, gripping his hair, panic flooding his veins like it was being chased by his weak attempts at cooling himself down.

Gently, Jazz was holding his hands, squeezing them reassuringly. "Why did what hurt? Are you injured? Danny, focus, I need to know what's wrong so I can help you."

"I just wanted to help," he tried to say, choking his words halfway through. (Tears couldn't drown the flames.) "It was too hot, everywhere and I couldn't think and I would have done something but all I could focus on was how everything felt like it was burning-"

"Breathe, Danny, it's okay, you're save now. Keep going."

Breathing didn't work, instead he just squeezed his eyes shut, wondering if his brain had frozen by accident, or melted before he had been able to change.

"I didn't save them. I wasn't fast enough, the fire was too much, I'm so sorry, Jazz, I don't know what happened."

Just like he clung to his ghost half like a lifeline, he clung to his sister, not minding this kind of warmth. Maybe, with her help, he would wake up in the morning and not feel the green buzz fighting the heat, instead just feeling blue and cry for the loss, not the pain. (And maybe he would think clearly, realize pain came from loss and fire was energy, light and not just destruction.)


	15. Day 15 - Finals

Finals

* * *

Maddie was a good mother, she really was.

She loved her children, she taught them her morals, she gave them rules to follow, she made sure they were financially stable enough to provide her children with everything they needed, she-

-she loved her children. That was enough, right?

When she arrived upstairs that evening - or was it night? - the house was quiet. Even Jack had turned into bed already, claiming he had to be energized in the morning to catch any potentially dangerous ghosts. (He'd said potentially, she'd corrected him.)

She was happy to find someone had cooked a proper meal, Jazz perhaps, and that there were left-overs on the counter for her. A note had been stuck to the fridge, Danny's curly handwriting on it.

"Don't open the fridge, didn't get to catch the cheese yet," it read, making Maddie smile.

Ectoplasmic contamination of their food was a regular occurence in their house, but it was one they had learned to deal with like other people dealt with a spider in the corner behind the couch.

She didn't open the fridge.

After eating her more than late dinner and setting the dishes down in the sink, she made her way upstairs, planning to check on her children's bedrooms just for a second. She was surprised when the door to her daughter's room didn't creak, like she thought it usually had. Then again, she hadn't been paying attention to that specific detail lately. (Maybe Jack had oiled the hinges?)

Jazz was sleeping soundly, breathing evenly and one hand lying on her stuffed bear's belly, as though she was the one comforting him in her sleep. Reaching Danny's room, she halted, realizing there was still light shining through the crack underneath the door. Readying herself to reprimand her son for staying up late again, Maddie opened the door, only to find a sleeping Danny at his desk.

Inching closer, she saw the open books and papers lying scattered all over the surface, lots and lots of notes taken in the same writing as the one on the fridge.

Maddie was a terrible mom.

She hadn't even known Danny was about to have his finals.


	16. Day 16 - Eavesdropping

Eavesdropping

* * *

The only way to get around the rumours of Amity Park was to not live there. Eavesdroppers hid everywhere, behind the next corner or in plain sight, witing for the next juicy bit.

Paulina Sanchez was not exempt from this group of people, snapping up pieces of mostly unsafe information and handing it out in exchange for the attention she adored.

Only recently had she kept some of it to herself. She had never stopped listening to interesting conversations, had never cared about which rank she had assigned someone to eavesdrop on them.

"Guess you'll have to eat at our house again, dude."

Still - even Paulina knew where to draw a line. It wasn't like she had much experience with actually bad cases, but the more she heard of Fenton and his friends, the more weary she became.

"I got a birthday cake!"

"They remembered?"

"I mean, Jazz did."

Her parents loved her deeply, they cared for her, gave her whatever she wanted. Paulina couldn't comprehend the idea of someone not having what she had.

"They almost shot you, Danny."

"It was an accident, they weren't even aiming at me this time!"

"Even worse! They almost got you at home, as their son! What if you die next time?"

Paulina could have said something, could have used the information to help.

Instead, she tuned down the eavesdropping - it wasn't her problem to deal with.


	17. Day 17 - Hands

Hands

* * *

The hand he was shaking felt like it was trying to hold him in place, forcing him into his place and demonstrating Vlad's power over him. Danny wished he could argue that he had none. His parents didn't seem to notice the tension, each shaking hands with Vlad, as well, hugging him right after, relishing in the slightly faded warmth of old friends.

Danny was freezing under the cold stare of the billionaire.

Despite everything those eyes had seen, his hands had still done what they had done. Danny would have thought that someone like Vlad, who had suffered in his life, would not wish to make someone suffer in turn. Yet, those hands had shot at him, grabbed him, choked him, electrocuted him and worst of all, touched his own hand, playing a game and keeping up a mask for only Danny to see through.

He was so tired of this hidden fight, the secret hate and the ignorance of his parents. But at the same time, their ignorance was what he counted on to keep his own secrets, to keep up his own, personal mask.

Danny couldn't judge and he certainly couldn't remove any masks before getting rid of his own, first.


	18. Day 18 - Music

Music

* * *

The ghost zone wasn't always a quiet place. At times, one might find it buzzing with a deep bassline or ringing with fleeting high notes. Ember loved floating through the waves of sound that went beyond what she could create, farther yet beyond what any human could create.

But today was one was of those days. One of the days where, at first, she would interpret the waves as music, the most beautiful melody. She would move closer, let herself be directed by the thrilling tunes, pulled in and away.

Until she was too close, until the music started warping, changing, vibrating in a way that hurt. Her ears were screaming, begging her to get away, while her core was telling her to get there as fast as she could and help, save, protect.

A scream so bone rattling that it chilled the ghost zone to its center, hidden by the colours of a living melody - Ember wasn't the only one who had heard it.

She remembered the rumours, that the screams were the reason the ancient Master of Time had developed an interest in the ghost kid, that he had been so shaken by the scream that his instincts had won over, unlike Ember, who had managed to resist.

Whether it had been the first scream or any of the ones that followed, no one knew. All they did know was that they sounded the same to them, every scream left behind a reminder of the ways of their world.


	19. Day 19 - Trap

Trap

* * *

When Danny was 7, his mother bought him a chinese finger trap.

Danny was amazed by it, but quickly figured out how it worked. It was fun trying to trap his friends or other people he knew or didn't know, taking on the role of the knowing person. It was easy, though, really. Pulling tightened the trap, pushing loosened it. You just has to use your other fingers. Or intangibility, his dad once said, telling him to never use the chinese finger trap on a ghost, because it could move it's fingers rught through it. (Ghost, how funny.)

When he was 13, Sam gave him a Venus Flytrap for his birthday, ensuring that he would like this one - a carnivorous plant, how cool was that?

Danny had always been terrible sith plants, especially ones that weren't cacti. A flytrap, he found out soon enough, needed to be watered practically daily. His very quickly hadn't needed to be watered at all. It took him a week to break the news to Sam after it happened.

At 14, Danny got his first actual trap.

Tumbling into it like an unsuspecting fly, pulling and only wrapping the net around himself more tightly.


	20. Day 20 - Ink

Ink

* * *

It was hard to concentrate, his head was heavy and there was a pressure weighing him down. Sitting hunched over the sheet of paper, Danny tried to find the right words, even though he knew they didn't exist.

"Dear Mom, dear Dad,"

A tiny droplet fell onto the first letter, smearing the ink and making him crumple up the paper and start anew.

"Dear Mom, dear Dad,

Before I explain, I want you to know that I love you."

He felt as though he were writing his last words, like he were saying goodbye. (Maybe he was. They would decide.)

The thought caused another wave of fear and despair to wash over him, more tears running down his cheeks, staining the paper and ruining the half-dried ink. His hand slammed down on the desk in frustration and anger, the pen he'd been using snapped clean in half from the action.

It had been a gift from his mother, years ago.

The ink was now all over his hand, then his hair, as he gripped the strands and pulled and tried to breathe, but found he couldn't. He was trapped within the confines of his secret, the lies he had carefully crafted between himself and his parents were keeping him from saying what he had to say.

The ink had run out.


	21. Day 21 - Anniversary

Anniversary

* * *

"Isn't 'anniversary' just a mix between 'annoying' and 'adversary'?"

The break of silence wasn't enough to avert Clockwork's full attention from his usual job of watching over the timeline. "I think you mean to ask whether it is the portmanteau of those words?"

Danny hummed. "If that means mix, then yeah."

"Simplified, yes. But no, it's not. The word 'anniversary' derived from the Latin term 'annus', meaning year, and 'versus', 'a turning' - therefore used to describe something that returns yearly, such as a birthday."

"Or a deathday?"

This time, Clockwork paused. If he had been human, Danny imagined he would have inhaled sharply before holding his breath for a moment. "I assume you haven't forgotten about it, have you?" Clockwork sighed, regrettably, setting his staff to the side and letting the image on the glass in front of him fade away. "As the day and the manner one has died was often a very traumatic experience, ghosts do not celebrate their... 'death day'."

"I don't want to celebrate it," Danny quickly rushed, but Clockwork held up a hand and he went quiet.

"However, it is important to acknowledge and respect this day. It is a part of you, just like the day you came into existence was for the human you."

Danny frowned, crossing his arms. "But the human me is still me. I'm still the same me, just not- not..."

Clockwork must have understood his struggle and gently picked up where he'd trailed off. "Not biologically, correct. Your soul is still the same, it's content hasn't changed - it's form, however, has."

"I don't like this subject, can we talk about something else, please?"

The smile he received was enough to wash away the uncomfortable thoughts for the moment and by tomorrow, he would be ready to fight the annoying adversary that was his death day.


	22. Day 22 - Community

Community

* * *

Being an anomaly, something in between here and there, neither quite alive nor fully dead, troubles fitting in were a naturally big issue for Danny.

The word 'naturally' wasn't even a good word to describe it. Danny didn't feel 'natural' in his own body anymore, whether he was being human or ghost. (He was never.) As Fenton, people thought he was nothing more than a freak who failed all of his classes and was scared of ghosts. As Phantom, people thought he was an abomination, an act, nothing but ectoplasmic stum manifested in the form of a post-human consciousness.

No one saw him as both, always as each and as neither and as nothing or the worse part.

The human community, Sam always reminded him, was one that pressured, that molded and squeezed and suffocated. The ghostly pendant could only be the same, she had concluded. He didn't need to fit into it by being the same, he was his own person, he had access to both, obviously a part of him would stay linked to the other.

"It's not a bad thing," she'd say. "You're like a bridge between here and there. You're the glue between both that keeps everything from falling apart."

Danny didn't want to be suffocated by a community of pressuring individuals.

He didn't want to be suffocated by two parts, but he was in between and as much as they pushed, he pulled.

Nothing would ever change that.


	23. Day 23 - Scream

Scream

* * *

Sometimes, Danny woke up to the echo of a scream.

Jazz always said she hadn't heard anything, even though she usually woke up first, especially when Danny was having nightmares. Still, he was sure he wasn't just making them up, some days he could hear the echo for minutes after waking up.

Each time, Danny could not remember what he'd dreamt, if he had dreamt anything in the first place. All the echo reminded him of was a memory he'd rather keep buried deep beneath every other one he had made before and after the accident.

It was Jazz who made the important connection.

"Have any of the ghosts noticed it?"

Danny froze, spoon full of cereal stopping in midair. "What do you mean?"

The book concealing Jazz's face disappeared. "I mean," Her expression showed him that she thought he should know what she was talking about. "Have any of the ghosts ever mentioned a scream? Maybe it's a sound only ghosts can hear?"

He thought about it for a moment, but was ultimately unable to recall any mentions of a strange scream. However, he had to admit that Jazz had come to a very possible conclusion. He'd have to look into it sometime.


	24. Day 24 - Galaxy

Galaxy

* * *

The future that Clockwork had shown him wasn't one he had liked. Everyone knowing who he was just because the world had almost ended - it simply didn't feel right. Tucker as mayor of Amity Park? Definitely not, Tucker was destined for much greater things, Danny knew. Sam and him becoming a couple was probably the weirdest thing, though it wasn't the worst.

That spot had proudly been occupied by Vlad being abandoned in outer space.

Danny couldn't help it, whenever he looked up at the sky, his eyes would focus beyond the stars, searching for a galaxy far away. He imagined that in a different world, one perhaps parallel to his, Vlad might be drifting through that galaxy right now.

The idea was stupid, not only because that distance took an eternity to travel, but because the Vlad he knew lived close enough that he could visit him anytimr he wanted - not that he did. The Vlad he knew also was a person just like him (halfa, ghost, human, person?) and - fruitloop or not - deserved a second chance.

Danny had been given one by death, another one by Clockwork himself and probably more by life in general. He believed in the best in people, even though his temper got the best of him often and he didn't like Vlad one bit, Danny respected life, half or not.

Spending it in space all alone, in the cold empty void, left behind by the only friend you'd had - that wasn't life, it was worse than death.

That option wasn't one he'd liked.


	25. Day 25 - Theory

Theory

* * *

"Alright," said Tucker, clapping his hands. "I have a theory!"

Blinking at the sudden introduction, Danny and Sam shared a glance. "Um, a theory?" Danny asked, hestitant as to what this might be about.

"Yeah, about that obsession thing, remember?" Sam's groan was loud enough to send a discouraging wave towards Tucker. "You don't have to listen to it, I just thought you might want to," he grumbled, letting himself fall onto Danny's chair.

"No, I wanna hear it," Danny said, looking at Sam. "Don't you?"

"Fine, fine, hit us with it." After a second's thought, she added, "And I mean metaphorically, so don't get any ideas, Foley."

"A shame," Tucker replied, grinning. "But anyway, remember how you got all restless and shiver-y after staying away from Amity too long?"

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I was there," he deadpanned.

"Right, so what if it's not an obsession thing, like saving people or anything, but a haunt?"

"Wait, what?"

"It's just like every ghost movie in existence!"

Sam was lying back on Danny's bed, both hands pressed on her face in frustration. "Tucker."

"No, listen, it makes sense. Amity Park is Danny's territory, since he died here."

If either of them noticed Danny's flinch, they didn't say.

"But isn't the haunt usually just a house or something?" Danny interjected.

"For weak ghosts," Tucker added. "Think about it."

"Alright, thanks, we're thinking about it," rushed Sam. "Can we do something relevant now?"

"Or something fun?" asked Danny.


	26. Day 26 - Laughter

Laughter

* * *

Instead of being woken up by the rays of sunlight or the icy shiver of his ghost sense, Danny arose to the sound of bells. Opening his eyes, he was greeted with a pair of blue eyes like his own and a smile bigger than any he had ever seen.

"Danny, wake up!"

He rubbed his eyes, craning his neck to glance at his cracked alarm clock. 8:23. Why had he not been waken up by a ghost yet?

"Morning, Ellie," he mumbled, feeling only slightly more rested than usual.

"Don't just say 'Morning'," she scolded, the grin not leaving her face despite the disappointment. "You're supposed to say 'Happy Christmas'!"

His eyes found the clock again, this time searching for a date instead of a time. The 25th of December.

"Oh," he said. "That's why I had a full night' sleep, I guess."

Ellie raised an eyebrow, still too excited to actually make a not-happy expression. "What, you forgot about Christmas?"

"I just forgot about the Christmas truce," Danny lied, sitting up. "And by the way, it's 'Merry Christmas', not 'Happy Christmas'. But since this is your first one, I'll cut you some slack." He ruffled his hair and she leaped at him, hugging him like it waz the last time she could.

"Now come on," she urged, scrambling off the bed. "There's presents to open, right?"

He chuckled at her enthusiasm, suddenly feeling a lot less tired than before. "Right, you go on, I'll just get dressed real quick."

His littler sister's laughter was better than any christmas present he could have received in his life, half-life or after life, he was sure.


	27. Day 27 - Medicine

Medicine

* * *

Why, Danny wondered, did medicine always taste bitter?

Obviously, he knew what Spectra had meant when she'd said that she was going to give him a taste of her medicine, but that didn't make it any better.

He had seen it coming the moment the words had left her lips, had tried to brace himself against the touch of her hands, the piercing of her claws, but to no avail.

Just like a cold would drain him of energy, Spectra was draining him of everything bright and warm, taking away his happiness, motivation, optimism. Squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his fists, Danny did his best to fight her, hiding away the last bits of positive thoughts within him, building up his walls.

He let himself become blind of them, storing them away like a reserve of energy.

Spectra turned away. Danny found home.


	28. Day 28 - Puppet

Puppet

* * *

Danny had involuntarily become half-ghost.

Becoming Phantom and playing hero - that one was all on him.

He had started playing hero - no living the hero life (living, right) - all by himself, growing into the routine of prioritizing the job people hated before the one he was told to do because no matter what they said, he was doing the right thing. (If there was one thing he knew for sure-)

Without realizing, he had accepted his fate - all strings attached. In between ghosts, humans, flying and trying to keep his feet on the ground, Danny was nothing but a puppet - helpless, limp, because if he tried to fight, he'd get stuck.

"What's on your mind?" Clovkwork asked, glancing at Danny. He could see the inner restlessness at not knowing, normally used to being the one who did. Whenever it came to Danny, inside his own tower, inside his inner walls, Clockwork's powers were useless.

"Time can be changed, but is that really my choice or is even that change already set in stone?"

Clockwork would have blinked had he not had an eternity of practice concealing his thoughts and emotions. "I'm afraid that is a question even I do not know the answer to, Daniel. If it is set in stone, I would be unable to know, fooled by the universe to think I had made a decision, when in truth, fate itself had already planned this for me. I believe we may never know."

"Guess I'm trapped after all," Danny grumbled, slouching visibly due to the disappointing response.

"Trapped?"

"I can't know, so whether fate exists or not, it has us trapped." Groaning, Danny laid back in the air, floating next to Clockwork, who kept calmly gazing at the scene in front of him, where a young child was playing with a doll.

"Sometimes, our own thoughts trap us more than the actions of others, do they not?"


	29. Day 29 - Vein

Vein

* * *

A stumble, a gasp, a clicking sound.

His eyes locked onto his left hand, leaning against the wall for support. Time stopped, then resumed at a much slower pace, as though it were trying to prolong the torture.

In slow motion, Danny watched the lighting change, in time with the increased buzzing in his ears. Everything was blinding, white-hot, ice-cold, gravity was pulling at him, all the while letting go like it didn't think he mattered.

With wide eyes and a scream too loud to realize escaping his lips, Danny stared at his arm. Through the white of his suit, a glowing green line was travelling up his arm, stretching and expanding, splitting up.

The electricity moving around and within him wasn't what he focused on. All he saw was that vein, slowly killing him from within, reaching further and further.

He couldn't stop it.


	30. Day 30 - Glass

Glass

* * *

Life was fragile, as were the threads conecting each and every person, some woven on purpose, some pulled in on accident. A single step in the wrong direction and the fabric of friendship could tear, rip even, strings loosening and people falling past any safety nets.

Sometimes, Danny had that dream, one he kept to himself in fear of stumbling over it.

In this dream, Danny opened his eyes to see the stars, or maybe not the stars, just stars. He could never recognize any constellations. They sparkled beautifully, shining on his face - they were glowing for each other. He tried to reach up, tried to touch them and feel their energy, but they kept moving, switching places and racing each other and him.

Until he used his flight, shooting up and cupping one of the shining spots in his hands, its light still visible through his fingers. Without warning, a cracking sound rang through the endless room, followed by visible lines starting from his hands and spreading to the surrounding stars, connecting them all in a web of suspension. If he moved, everything would fall apart.

And suddenly Danny saw. Every star, each small light, was a life. In his hands, he held his own, but if he let go, he would abandon so many more.

If he let go, thousands of lives would shatter like glass.

(Danny wasn't important, but the threads were.)


End file.
